


Citadel Ghost Story

by soldiermom1973



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Citadel, Crucible, Gen, Mass Effect 3, ghost story, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 03:48:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8235041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soldiermom1973/pseuds/soldiermom1973
Summary: Shepard survived the explosion when the Crucible fired.  Now he waits for rescue.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Saw a thing on a fanpage and felt like I needed to write something for it. Several people said they'd read it, so here it is. Enjoy.

It was cold. Shepard couldn't remember the last time he was this cold. It settled deep in his bones yet didn't make him shiver; he couldn't even see his own breath. He glanced down at his armor and realized why – his gear was heavily damaged. The thermal regulators were probably broken allowing his body heat out and the outside air in. He sighed and shook his head, surveying the scene. The dust had settled – that must have happened while he was still buried under the rubble...

Wait... he _was_ buried under rubble, right? Shepard rubbed his chin and tried to think – he fired his pistol, there was an explosion, then...

Nothing. His mind drew a blank. Shepard frowned as he struggled to remember what happened after his gun fired. Memory loss meant he most likely suffered from a concussion. He nodded to himself, finding that reason acceptable, and grazed his fingers over his closely-shaved head, looking for the tell-tale bump of a head injury. His brow furrowed more when he didn't find anything. _No bump? Didn't I hit my head, then? Or was I out long enough to heal?_

Confused, Shepard tried to radio the Normandy and let them know he was still alive. Instead of EDI's attempt at humor or Joker's biting wit, there was nothing but dead air. Did the explosion damage his comms? Or had the Crucible fired and damaged the comm buoys nearby? He tried his omnitool and found it was also out of commission. It was probably a fair bet, then, the tracker in his armor wasn't sending info back to the Normandy. Did he even manage to fire the Crucible, then? What if he failed? What if the Reapers were still out there, continuing the cycle and harvesting life across the galaxy?

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn't fail. He couldn't have. He refused to think he had. His ship was still out there, his crew intact and looking for him. He just needed to be patient.

Shepard took a closer look around. He inhaled deeply, picking up faint traces of smoke and sulfur. It bothered him that he couldn't remember anything after the Citadel exploded around him. Even with the cold surrounding him, penetrating to the bone, he could still feel the warmth of the fireball on his face, seeping through the holes in his armor.

The oppressive silence struck him next. Usually after a disaster, the air was filled with the screams and cries of the dying and injured or anyone looking for help or loved ones. Shepard heard absolutely nothing, though. The quiet was eerie and made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He reached over his shoulder for his weapon and nearly panicked when he found it was missing. His sidearm was gone, too. He froze and looked around for the familiar firearms and realized he must have lost them in the blast.

He was a fully trained Alliance N7 operative and the first human Spectre, he reminded himself. If anyone attacked him, he would be able to improvise something. Shepard sat on the ground, cross-legged, and stared at his hands. Considering everything he had been through and how badly wounded he was before hitting the beam, he wasn't in any pain at all. Medigel was good, but there should have been residual soreness from all the injuries he'd received. His armor was still a mess, but the rest of him seemed to be in decent shape.

Shepard finally stood and wandered around the area. He needed to build a fire – for heat and to signal a rescue party. He wasn't hungry or thirsty now, but he would have to find a source of food and clean water. He wondered briefly how roasted keeper would taste.

There was no way to keep track of the time. The daily cycles on the Citadel weren't working, so he didn't know if it was day or night. He slept when he was tired and kept himself busy with foraging and exercise when he was awake. And always he listened for a familiar voice in his ear, telling him his crew – his friends – were on their way to retrieve him. All he could do was wait.

Sometimes, Shepard felt like he was being watched but he could never find anyone nearby. He would hear whispers that sometimes sounded like his name. He would look around, trying to find the source of the sound, becoming increasingly frustrated when the whispers would fade before he could figure out where the noise was coming from.

He wondered how everyone else was doing – he refused to think they had all died somehow – and was curious about how the rebuilding was going. Did the powers-that-be that remained across the galaxy remember that even deceased Reapers have the power to indoctrinate? He hoped so because the last thing he needed was to have to fight this war all over again because some fool got too close to Reaper debris.

The days blurred together. Days? Or was it months? He surely couldn't have been stranded here for years, yet every day was the same – the smell of smoke and sulfur never dissipated, the silence pressed tightly around his ears, his comms and omnitool were still broken. He stared at the ceiling, wishing there was a hole so he could see the stars. He never gave up hope, though. He couldn't. Shepard had been through entirely too much to think the galaxy – his crew especially – had given up on him. He just needed to be patient and wait for his rescue.

\- - - - - - - - - - -

It wasn't long after the rubble had been cleared that whispers of a ghost in the area started to spread. There was no pattern or predictability to its appearance, making it hard to photograph or catch on video. Those who saw it, though, claimed it was wearing what looked like N7 armor and swore it looked like Commander Shepard. Rumor had it that this was the spot where the control panel was that he used to fire the Crucible, so it made sense he would haunt the last place he'd been.

Decades passed – shops came and went, the population ebbed and waned – yet the mysterious figure remained, always appearing out of nowhere, looking lost and out of place, before disappearing into thin air. Commander Shepard is nothing if not patient, and he will wait as long as necessary for his rescue.


End file.
